


A Fantastic Liar

by CosmicCove



Category: Clone High
Genre: Admittedly I've written better., Death Threats, Death ment., Dialogue Heavy, I will be writing more of these two mark my words, Insecurity, M/M, Takes Place somewhere in season 1, This is like... A character study for Scudworth also, but I'm in rare pair hell so, hehe gay robot hehe gay scientist, not during the last episode, take this.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCove/pseuds/CosmicCove
Summary: "You really are a fantastic liar.  You can fool almost anyone.  But not me."
Relationships: Cinnamon J. Scudworth/Lynn Butlertron
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	A Fantastic Liar

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what the official ship name for these two is, but I really like Cinnatron or Cinnalynn. I think Cinnalynn is better; it has a flow to it. Anyways, I'm weak to these two, and this is basically my only Clone High ship. I can't find any fics for it, so if you're stuck in rarepair hell like me, hmu, I want to write more but I don't have any ideas right now.

Scudworth watched as the screen flickered off. The board of shadowy figures just could never seem to think of anything besides death threats. They talked non stop about taking his clones away too! That's his cash cow, though, his way to fortune and fame, and what did the board want the clones for, living war machines? Yeah, Scudworth may be using them for a quick buck once Cloney Island's grand opening, but it had to be better than whatever the board of shadowy figures had in mind. 

Besides, Scudworth knew these kids. He has all their lives, being the one to have cloned them and given them to their foster parents. He was their babysitter before they could read, and then their elementary school principal when they were old enough to know how to read, and Lord knows he was principal and science teacher in the clones' middle school, a nightmare in itself. 

He knew these kids, and they aren't who the board of shadowy figures think they are. They aren't anything like their original selves, and the ones that try to be are struggling. He already had a student die, and he felt like there would be more in the future, and it would be all of them if the board of shadowy figures had it their way. Van Gogh was depressed and timid, JFK was strangely sensitive even though he tries to hide it, Gandi has little focus most days if any; they are not cut out to be regular soldiers, much less super soldiers. 

Through the years, Scudworth had tried to distance himself from the clones. You should never get attached to something you know can't be yours forever. He tried not to, and he failed, because he really cared about these kids even when he tried to hide it. His head was spinning with all the ways these kids can get taken from him. The board threatened to come and take the clones themselves nearly everyday, and no doubt some government agency had the power to take them right out from under his nose. There was, of course, the more gruesome and more likely method, which would be to kill him and take the clones when he couldn't fight back. 

God, they always wanted to kill him. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the touch of a cold, metal hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Wesley?" Mr. B asked. 

"Oh. Yes," Scudworth replied, "I was just thinking of science things." 

"Okay," Mr. B hummed, his voice somehow sounding doubtful through the emotionless tone he couldn't shake off. If he couldn't get Scudworth to admit how he felt, he could at least ask about other things that could help him infere. Mr. B knew Scudworth never hid the facts. That's just how scientists were. "How did your meeting go?" 

"Same as always," Scudworth answered, "They talked about using the clones, I schemed behind their backs, they threatened to kill me." 

Mr. B grumbled, "I don't like it when they do that." 

"Do what?" Scudworth asked, "Call me to meetings? I suppose it is an annoying interruption…" 

"No, when they threaten to kill you," Mr. B clarified. 

"I suppose it can be distressing," Scudworth hummed, "To you, I mean. Not me, obviously." 

"Wesley." 

"Hm?" 

"It's okay to be scared." 

"They don't scare me," Scudworth argued, "They couldn't kill me if they tried. I'm too clever." 

A person who didn't know Scudworth as well as Mr. B would have been convinced. He talked with such pride, such arrogance, that it was believable on the surface. However, Mr. B knew Scudworth better than anyone else in the world. He slipped his cold metal hands into Scudworth's. "I'm scared," Mr. B admitted, "So when you're scared, know that I'm scared with you." 

"Mr. B, when was I last scared?" Scudworth asked. Nonetheless, he grabbed the little robot and pulled him up onto his lap. Mr. B cuddled into Scudworth as Scudworth placed his chin on Mr. B's head. "I'll keep you here until you aren't scared though," Scudworth muttered. 

"You really are a fantastic liar. You can fool almost anyone," Mr. B pointed out, "But not me." 

Scudworth nodded. "I know. I can try though." He laughed quietly, "Practice makes perfect." 

"Every time you learn new ways to lie, I'll learn how you are lying," Mr. B playfully argued back, "Practice can make perfect for me, too." 

Scudworth sighed. "I suppose that is true." 

"So do you want to talk about it now?" Mr. B asked. 

There was a pause. "I guess so," Scudworth admitted. He paused again. "Do you think that they'll die when the board of shadowy figures takes them?" 

"The clones?" 

Scudworth nodded. 

"Some of them," Mr. B admitted, "But not all of them." 

Scudworth continued, "Sometimes I'm worried that I'm too attached to them." 

"That happens sometimes," Mr. B shrugged, "And it's not always a bad thing." 

"Or maybe I'm just greedy, wanting to keep them to myself." 

"Could be both." 

"You're right. Could be both," Scudworth echoed in agreement, "I want to believe it's just greed. It's logical, it's justified. I shouldn't care." 

"Either way, you have them convinced you don't care, so why does it matter?" Mr. B asked. 

"It matters to me," Scudworth sighed, "I wish I didn't care." 

"Because it makes sense?" 

"Yeah. It would make sense if I didn't care." 

"Feelings don't always make sense. You know this," Mr. B reminded him. 

"I hate feelings," Scudworth hissed, "I'm above them." 

Mr. B laughed at the notion of being above feeling. 

"Shut up! You know I am!" Scudworth yelled in a joking manner. 

"Sure you are," Mr. B quipped, "Every single one of them." 

"Well, maybe not _every_ single one," Scudworth admitted, pressing a kiss on the flat top of the robot's head. 

Mr. B glanced up at Scudworth's smile, a smiling of his own forming. "You feel better now?" 

"Yes," Scudworth remarked, "Not that I was feeling bad at all before." 

_This man is an enigma,_ Mr. B thought to himself, though he didn't say anything. Instead, he just shrugged and said, "Glad I could help." 

Mr. B tried to slide off of Scudworth's lap, but Scudworth wrapped his arms around the robot's middle. "Wait," he commanded, "Stay a little longer." 

Mr. B got comfortable in Scudworth's arms again. "Okay." 

"We're going to steal these clones," Scudworth muttered, filled with determination, "There's no way we're not. They can't stop us." 

"And then Cloney Island?" Mr. B asked. 

"Yes! We'll steal the clones and make Cloney Island and share the profit!" 

"I love you, Wesley." 

Scudworth smiled. "I love you too, Lynn."

**Author's Note:**

> hhhh I wish Mr. B could lovingly call Scudworth Cinnamon, but he can only call people Wesley.


End file.
